


Pixie, Perv, Protector

by Mice5k



Series: Pixie, Perv, Protector [1]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2420594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mice5k/pseuds/Mice5k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Equivalent in maturity but not age, the deterioration of the friendship of Bobby Drake and Jubilee is documented in short stories. (Note: Despite the warnings, no graphic depictions.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Perv" and "Pixie" have been used to punctuate the banter I write between Bobby and Jubilee, always knowing what was behind the names. These vignettes further explore that and the weird nature of their relationship, and others.

**Pixie, Perv, Protector**

**By Mice**

**Part 1: Perv Meets Pixie**

Jubilee was thirteen (and a half) and had seen the world with Wolverine. She had learned things, like how to smile while rainbow colored sparks shot out of your hands, burning them. That's what Logan taught her; anger is a painkiller.

It also came in handy when in a town far, far removed from civilization and even further away from indoor plumbing.

Her family was rich and she had grown up a child of the city, Los Angeles. Accepter of the western orphans though Jubilee never thought she would become one. Her life had gone by very slowly up until the day her parents died. The amount of life changing information she received since that day pushed them further away.

Now she was in New York, the Angel of eastern orphans. She was the youngest and newest. And she was pretty sure everybody wanted to do everybody else. It borderlined on inappropriate. And this was from a thirteen year-old girl, filled with hormones and fireworks.

Since they got back from Genosha, some of the older members of the X-Men had moved in. And she had finally met Kitty Pryde. Kitty Pryde was a walking American Girl doll. Everyone loved her and wanted her. She wasn't even an orphan! And she had a dragon? Please.

She walked to a boat house on the estate that was abandoned. It was crazy how much space was all Xaviers. Los Angeles was far from compact, but maintained a constant buzz. The silence here was annoying.

Cold water dripped on her head. Jubilee turned her head to the roof where icicles were melting. It had to be, "Frosty? Cold Bringer? BrrrMan? Robert Van Winkle? Blizzwizz? Chill Pill? Artic Bear? Penguin Pal?"

"Who are you talking to?" A man in an Alf apron came out.

"You! Guy who makes it cold." Jubilee traced a circle around him in the air with her finger. "That's your thing."

"Iceman. I make ice and I'm a man, How is that hard to remember?"

"Because you look nothing like Val Kilmer."

"I'll have you know that I've been told I look like a nice Val Kilmer."

"By who, your grandmother?"

"And other women!" He went back inside. "Come on in, I'm making hamburgers."

Jubilee went in. "Do you live here?"

"Nope. Just found this place. Never seen it before." He went to the stove where he flipped a few patties over.

"And you just happened to have stuff for hamburgers?"

"Well," he explained, wiping his hands on the Alf apron, "I was going over to where I thought Scott had his grill but it might have been moved after...uhm, the Cajun guy? Card Shark?"

"Gambit."

"Yeah! That guy! He tried to use it and Scott got really upset so I guess he moved it. I found this place, went to see if the appliances work and…" he shook his own hand. "It's like I'm the Annie Sullivan and my hamburgers are Helen Keller."

This made very weird sense to her. "I'm Jubilee, in case you're wondering."

He nodded. "I know who you are. Do you like ketchup?"

"On a hamburger?"

"On fries."

"I like vinegar."

"Perf."

"Why?"

"Because I have no ketchup."

"No, why do you know who I am?"

He began slicing a tomato. "Cuz you're the youngest. I always know who the youngest is."

"Perv."

"No, I just know how it feels. I was the first youngest here."

A light went off in her head. "So, you're one of the original Xavier 5?"

"Yep. We've been away for a while. X-Factoring it up. I guess we're back now. What kind of cheese?"

"All the cheeses." Jubilee stared at the food making man. "You're shorter than what I thought."

"Shorter? That would be what you noticed." He simmered mushrooms and onions on a separate burner.

"Well, there's the tall stick in the mud -"

"Scott. You'll warm up to him. He just takes all of this super seriously."

"His redhead -"

"No bad words about Jean. That's just a basic rule."

"The two blue guys?"

"Warren and Hank. Warren's the guy with the silver wings. He used to be so much fun...wore orange headbands." He sighed, taking out the hamburger buns from the oven. "Hank is the smartest guy I've ever known and is my best friend."

"And then there's you."

"And then there's me." He checked on his fries in the cast iron skillet and began to put them on a plate with a paper towel to blot the oil off. "Bobby Drake, CPA. Superhero. Amateur cook. What's your real name?"

"Jubilation Lee."

"You're messing with my head."

"The previous youngest was named Kitty Pryde, you really want to go there?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Maybe."

"Good enough. She kind of creeps me out."

"How so?"

"It's like...everyone either loves her or wants to...you know...love her." Bobby made a vaguely crude gesture with his lower torso. "That's weird, right?"

"Did you ever get any of that attention?"

"Hell no! And she gets a dragon? Please."

"PLEASE." Jubilee smiled. "So, are you X-Factor peeps here for good or just visiting?"

"Well...it looks like for good. Scott's brother is going to take over X-Factor now that it's all governmental and what-not."

"Ew, he has a brother?"

Bobby threw her a look. "Normally, I would rush to defend one of my oldest friends but seeing as how his brother essentially stole a girlfriend from me, ew away." Bobby handed her a plate of fries and a hamburger with all the cheeses. "Now, who is the woman with the auburn hair with a white streak?"

"That's Rogue. Gambit's all up in her business. Keep looking." Jubilee pointed to the vinegar behind Bobby and he handed it over.

"Damn it! Just my luck..."

"Betsy's all available."

"Not my type."

"Too much boobs?"

"No such thing."

"Got something against Asians?"

"I'll have you know that I am currently maybe-may not be in a relationship with a Japanese artist right now."

"Why maybe?"

"...haven't been able to talk to her in a few months due to saving the world...she might take it personally..."

"What about Storm?"

"I don't date goddesses anymore as a rule." Bobby lathered his hamburger with spicy mustard and took a bite. "Did you know she kicked Scott's ass? When she was depowered?"

Jubilee's eyes widened with new appreciation for her leader. "Bad ass."

"So, how old are you?"

"Thirteen." Jubilee puffed up her chest. "And a half."

Bobby frowned. "What do your parents think of all this?"

"My parents are dead. Yours?"

"Alive. In Long Island."

"Since you were one of the originals, I guess you didn't get to be Wolvie's sidekick…"

"Yeah, I don't think that an angry Canadian with claws would even be able to spend five minutes with me without wanting to shut my face graphically. I've been told I have a mouth on me…"

"I remind you, I'm a thirteen year-old orphan who grew up rich in Los Angeles and traveled with him to rural China. I've lived to tell the tale."

"Well then, cheers." Bobby held up his hamburger to toast her. "To the youngest X-Men."

Jubilee held up hers. "To the youngest and mouthiest X-Men."

"Who are not Kitty Pryde."

"And deserve dragons of their own."

They toasted and continued to eat.

"What would you name your dragon?"

"You don't get to name the dragon," Jubilee answered with a mouthful of food. "I checked. Because I would totally name my dragon Chipotle."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good name."

"You?"

"Little John."

"Little John? Are you kidding me?"

"Well, if I had a dragon, it would obviously breathe fire, right?"

"Obviously."

"So, since I am the Iceman and I'd have this awesome fire breathing dragon on my shoulder, I would obviously name it after my friend and opposite, Johnny Storm."

"Would he name his dragon Little Bob?"

Bobby wiped his mouth. "I faxed him a legally binding agreement on it. Our headquarters blew up while I was waiting for him to fax it back, but he knows."

The two ate in silence for another moment.

"…do you want to try it again? Because, the fact is, he could get a dragon tomorrow and name it whatever he wants."

Bobby stared at her and her wonderful logic filled head. "Thirteen and a half, huh?"

"Stop dwelling on it, Perv, and get me a pen. We'll get this over to him as soon as we're done with our fries."

 


	2. Perv & the Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the wedding of Hank Pym & Janet Van Dyne, Jean and Scott's plans are interrupted by Bobby's confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I had this idea since I was sixteen (that's 1996...don't count the years!) in a Waldenbooks at a mall. Been trying to write it in various ways with no success and eventually forgot about it, though the Bobby/Lorna/Alex triangle always fascinated me. I'm guessing Hank and Janet's wedding would jibed with the timing of this. Also, am beginning to suspect my fanfic is just an elaborate ploy to teach those in love to make pancakes happen for their loved ones. Why? Because it works and pancakes are delicious. (Waffles are better, though. Pie is best.)

**Pixie, Perv, Protector**

**By Mice**

**Part 2: Perv & the Protector**

**-Hyperion Hotel, NYC - Past -**

"I can't believe they gave you a room to yourself."

"Technically, I'm supposed to be sharing with someone. I might have distracted key people into forgetting that." Jean smiled at Scott and sat on the bed. "Please don't turn me in?"

Scott was a man who knew better than to alert any of the adults that he was alone with the most beautiful woman who had ever let him touch her. "Secret's safe." He sat next to her on the bed. They had been dating for some time but now with the excuse of Avengers Dr. Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne getting married, they didn't have to hide. No more making excuses to take the car out and awkwardly fumbling around in the back seat.

There was a bed.

And privacy.

Best of all, there was time to figure out how they were going to do...it...exactly.

Scott went to kiss Jean on her jawline when thunderous pounding began at the door.

Jean sighed, slightly relieved. "I'm sorry, Scott." She walked to the door to find a red faced Bobby Drake at the other end. "Bobby?"

"Jean, can we talk?" Bobby entered without waiting for an answer. He stopped when he saw Scott. "Alone?"

Jean motioned to Scott, who slowly got off the bed. "I'll call you when we're done, okay?"

Scott looked at Bobby before he left, wanting to beg him to let him have a few moments alone with his girl.

It hurt being the good guy at times, Scott thought as he closed the door.

"Bobby, what's going on?"

Bobby sat on the bed where Jean soon joined him. "You have to promise you won't tell Scott."

"I won't tell Scott."

"Lorna and I had sex."

Jean was surprised. She knew of Bobby's feeling for their new teammate, but she also saw the way Lorna and Alex looked at each other. And she also talked to Lorna who had made it clear that she wasn't interested in Bobby. "Tonight?"

Bobby shook his head. "A few nights ago."

She put an arm around him. "Was it your first time?"

Bobby nodded quickly. "I haven't told anyone. Not even Hank. Only you."

"Why not?"

"I didn't..." Bobby's voice began to choke up. "I didn't know what was going on. One minute, I'm trying to draw blood out of a stone, the next, all she wants is for me to touch her..."

Jean bit back on her thought that it didn't sound like Lorna to do that. Everyone had been trying to tactfully tell Bobby that his conquest of Lorna was ill-fated. Jean was becoming upset at the idea of Lorna even luring Bobby down this road. "Bobby, if this happened a few nights ago, why are you here now?"

Bobby grabbed her hand. "You can't tell Scott!"

"I already said I wouldn't."

Bobby gripped her hand tight until his knuckles where white. "Lorna told Alex that...she said I raped her, Jean."

The hand on her wrist felt like stone - heavy and cold.

"I didn't! I mean, I don't think I did...she came to my room, Jean. She asked for me."

Jean sensed the hesitation in his voice, as if he was doubting himself. "Bobby...this is a very serious charge..."

"I could go to jail."

"You're not going to jail, Bobby!" Jean exclaimed, not quite believing what she was saying. "Everything is going to be fine."

Bobby shook his head. "Lorna says I raped her...oh, God, we're never going to be together, are we?"

Jean looked into the eyes of the youngest X-Men, the one she spent Halloween with drinking grenadine straight, the goofy clown who would make her snowmen in July, the one she was the most protective of. She had always seen a young boy trying desperately to keep up with all of them. Now, he was in adult trouble that none of them had ever contemplated. "There are so many questions I have, Bobby...how did this happen?"

"I think they had an argument...she knocked on my door and I let her in. We were sitting on the bed - closer than we are - and she tells me that she doesn't want to be alone. And she leaned in real close and kissed me." Bobby's mouth turned small as he continued. "One thing lead to another and we were...she left her underwear and told me to keep it as a reminder. They're going to find them and use it as evidence, aren't they?"

"'They'?"

"The Professor. The police. My parents. Reed Richards...the world..." Bobby held himself. "She didn't say no, Jean. I mean, I didn't hear it...I wouldn't have done it if she had-"

"We should tell Scott."

"NO. You promised!" Bobby looked into her eyes. "Scott can't know."

"If anybody is going to bring the police into this, let alone the Professor - Scott's going to have to know."

Bobby looked away. "You're right. Either way, Scott will hate me."

"Why would Scott hate you?"

Bobby took a deep breath as he brought his head to his hands. "We were almost lynched together when I got recruited for the X-Men. And he told me not to worry even though his face was...Scottlike."

"The face where you know inside, he's losing his shit but is trying to be composed for you?"

"That's the one." Bobby brought his head up slowly. "He told me what he remembered about that plane crash."

Jean steadied herself, only having recently talked to Scott about the incident. "Then what?"

"He told me the most insane part was convincing his younger brother to jump out of the plane by telling him that their parents were going to be fine - despite everything being on fire. I envy that." Bobby brought his legs up to the bed and wrapped his arms around them. "My entire life, I feel like everything has been on fire and there's not enough of me to put it out. When Scott told me that and it was the first time I ever felt calm in my life."

"Then why are you so scared to tell him?"

"Because then? I felt like his little brother. Now, I'm the person his little brother is going to want to kill."

"Nobody's going to kill you, Bobby." Jean kissed his head and felt the temptation that Xavier warned her about. "Let's go."

"Go where?"

To find an adult because I don't want to be it, Jean thought quietly while grabbing her room key. They exited the room quickly and Jean made eye contact with Lorna down the hall. "Bobby, go to your room."

Bobby left quickly, not up for any further communication with Lorna.

"Lorna?"

Lorna walked slowly to Jean. Jean shut out the distraction of what Lorna was saying and focused on what the Professor had shown her regarding her own telepathic prowess. He had warned her about the desire to erase memories. As much as she wanted to do that to Bobby, she knew she wouldn't be up for experimenting for the first time on three different people.

Even more, Jean wanted to know the truth. Jean believed Bobby - that part was never in question. The truth in question was why Lorna would say it.

By the time Lorna had come up to Jean, she had found it and was disappointed.

"Jean?" Lorna stopped, realizing that no one was listening to her.

Jean brought the tips of her fingers to her forehead. "Grow up, Lorna."

Alex soon came through the hall, putting his arm protectively around Lorna. "Jean, where's Scott?"

"I was hoping he was with you...what's going on?" Jean replied, staring at Lorna.

"Nothing," Lorna answered.

"Lorna?" Alex asked, surprised after what he had been told.

"Nothing happened, Alex. Let's just drop it." Lorna began to walk away, unable to return Jean's gaze. Alex soon followed, confused.

Jean re-entered her room and picked up the phone and called Scott's room. "Hi, it's me. Bobby's gone. Everything's all right. Just...maybe we should stay apart tonight. I know this ruins our plans but..." Jean smiled. "How did you guess that I was upset? No, not at you. You may want to talk to Alex, though. Yeah. Yeah, our night was interrupted due to more Bobby/Lorna/Alex drama. I think it will pass, though. Good night."

Jean hung up the phone and got into her robe when she heard the door knock.

"Room service?"

Jean shook her head. "I didn't order anything."

The waiter entered the room with the cart. "The gentleman did...is he not here?"

Jean smiled. "He was here earlier."

"Oh." The waiter frowned.

"Wait...which gentleman?"

"You got more than one, lady?"

"Four, actually."

"The tall, humorless one."

Jean's face was resolute as she opened up the silver tray. "Are these poffertjes? For real?"

"Yeah. Back in the day, the hotel was known for them but since nobody knows what poffertjes are and the chef made an announcement that he was not going to make anything called "tiny pancakes", they've been off the menu for a while. So when one of your prince charming's called the kitchen and asked for it by name, we dusted off the menu."

This was a Warren move. "Are you sure it was the tall, humorless one?"

"He said he would do anything to make you happy."

After the waiter left, Jean returned to the phone. "I changed my mind. If you're quick enough, there may be some tiny pancakes left for you."

 


	3. Pie & Pervs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott opens up about his previous failed marriage to Bobby who is eating his feelings in a McDonald's parking lot.

**Perv, Pixie, Protector**

**By Mice**

**Part 3: Pie & Pervs**

**Westchester, Past**

The McDonald's employee pointed to the Ford Escort that had been running in the parking lot for the past two hours with the radio turned up to Scott. "Occasionally, he'll come the drive thru for an apple pie. We tell him that he can get two for just a penny more, but he's convinced that it will be the last one he'll get...anyway. He's scaring the kids in the playground."

Scott nodded and made his way over to Bobby's car. He remembered the last time this had happened - back when it was just the five of them and Bobby had borrowed (one of) Warren's car(s). Warren was less upset that (one of) his car(s) had been taken than he was that Bobby had eaten White Castle in them.

Luckily, the White Castle had closed a few years ago.

He knocked on the passenger side window. "Bobby? It's Scott."

Slowly, the window began to roll down. "Hi, Scott."

Scott took a quick count of discarded apple pie containers. "Would you like to talk?"

Bobby unlocked the passenger side door and turned down the radio.

Scott pushed aside apple pie debris from the seat and sat down. "Who is she this time?"

"Does it matter? All I know is that I'm driving back to the mansion, I stop for an ill-advised drive thru pastry, and then I get stuck with this thought that I am thoroughly unlovable. So why not get all the ill-advised drive thru pastry in hopes that I'll die from apple poisoning." Bobby shook his head.

"You're not unlovable, Bobby. You grew up in the suburbs with both of your parents and-"

"Scott, don't do that. Don't pull the orphan card. Your dad's a space pirate! Your brother is..." Bobby's mouth tightened at the thought of Alex Summers. "Alive. You both have a relationship. You both are in a relationship. Stable ones -"

Scott frowned, thinking about Lorna.

"You were meant for this life, Scott. You came to Xavier's and it was like you were meant to be here. Things fell into place for you - have purpose. And I?" Bobby held up another apple pie box. "I have bad pie and a degree in accounting."

Scott took the box away from him, noticed the pie inside and asked, "Can I?"

Bobby shrugged.

Scott quickly ate the pie quietly, noticing Bobby staring up at him intently. "Yes?"

"Do you have any advice?"

"On women?"

"Yeah. On women."

"Nope."

"Nope?"

"None."

"Then how do you do it?"

"I'm over six foot tall, have great abs, and say very little. Worked for me when I was eighteen and never altered the formula. Also, I'm good with my hands."

Bobby, 5'8", nice abs (currently being destroyed by ill-advised pie), and spoke too much nodded. "I'm hopeless. You're getting married again in a month...wait, is that why you're here?"

"I'm here because you are my friend and as a rule, I care more about you than the opinions of Jean's mother and sister on our centerpieces."

"Really?"

"They are all on speaker phone, talking about pale blue roses versus pale lavender roses. They all look the same to me." Scott ate the rest of the pie. "I just want her to be happy."

"Can I ask something stupid?"

"Shoot."

"Do you still think about Maddy?"

Scott took a deep breath. "I wish I didn't. It's hard. Wasn't always. At first, she was like an easy answer to this very difficult problem I had. Getting married to her was the easy part...getting married is always the easy part, discussion of rose colors aside. Realizing why you did the things you did and knowing they aren't the solutions you thought is probably one of the hardest situations I've ever been in."

"You mean when she became the Goblin Queen?"

"That was actually one of the easier aspects to deal with. I know how to fight. I knew what was right in the situation. But when Jean came back and I was still married to Maddy." Scott looked for a place to put the apple pie wrapper, found none, and set it on the dash. "The problem was never that I didn't love Jean. It was that she wasn't there. I did what I thought was right to move on and then, when everything was fine, she comes back in. Now, I have to confront every time I told Maddy that the reason I love her isn't that she looks like Jean and figure out if I was lying."

"Because Jean's your true love? Your soul mate?"

Scott looked down. "I don't believe in that sort of thing."

Bobby kept silent. The words  _Scott and Jean_  were said by everybody as if they were one word.

"When the Dark Phoenix was creeping up, we would have these talks. And I never felt safer. I never stopped blaming myself for her death until we found out that she was never dead at all. Sometimes, Bobby, I resent her for being in a coma and getting to wake up and return to life while the rest of us had to keep going and make room for her again."

Bobby remembered the X-Factor days. The news of Jean being alive was instantly exciting to him, and to Hank and Warren. He had always assumed that Scott was just being Scott in his quietness.

Scott shook his head. "You're a suburban kid. You're as far away from me as Warren is to all of us. Ever since the airplane crash, I've been constantly waiting for the next bad thing to happen. And when bad things happen to me, they involve weird shit. Your bad things...are solved with ill-advised pies. These things are horrible, Bobby."

"If you don't believe in soul mates, if you feel like something is going to happen, why even do it again?"

"It's what will make her happy."

"What about what would make you happy? I heard Betsy propositioned you in a towel. Knowing my luck, the closest I'll ever get to that is Jubilee."

Scott gave a small smile. "I bet you, four years, she will."

"Betsy will?"

"Jubilee."

"Ew." Bobby shook his head. "She's thirteen, Scott."

"Kitty and Piotr had a similar age gap."

"I'm not going to date Jubilee."

"It's not dating that I'm worried about, Bobby. Things happen. Stupid things. They especially seem to happen to you."

Bobby opened his mouth to protest when Scott gestured to the trash around his feet, all apple pie boxes.

"I promise I won't do anything stupid, Scott."

"You're a man, Bobby. All we can do is something stupid." Scott pointed to the drive thru. "Should we get more pie?"

"Obviously."

 


	4. Pie & Pervs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby and Scott talk about man stuff in a McDonald's parking lot.

**Perv, Pixie, Protector**  
 **Part 4: Pie & Pervs**  
  
 _Westchester, Past_  
  
The McDonald's employee pointed to the Ford Escort that had been running in the parking lot for the past two hours with the radio turned up to Scott. "Occasionally, he'll come the drive thru for an apple pie. We tell him he can get two for just a penny more, but he's convinced that it will be the last one he'll get...anyway. He's scaring the kids in the playground."  
  
Scott nodded and made his way over to Bobby's car. He remembered the last time this had happened - back when it was just the five of them and Bobby had borrowed (one of) Warren's car(s). Warren was less upset that (one of) his car(s) had been taken than he was that Bobby had eaten White Castle in them.  
  
Luckily, the White Castle had closed a few years ago.  
  
He knocked on the passenger side window. "Bobby? It's Scott."  
  
Slowly, the window began to roll down. "Hi, Scott."  
  
Scott took a quick count of discarded apple pie containers. "Would you like to talk?"  
  
Bobby unlocked the passenger side door and turned down the radio.  
  
Scott pushed aside apple pie debris from the seat and sat down. "Who is she this time?"  
  
"Does it matter? All I know is that I'm driving back to the mansion, I stop for an ill-advised drive thru pastry, and then I get stuck with this thought that I am thoroughly unlovable. So why not get all the ill-advised drive thru pastry in hopes that I'll die from apple poisoning." Bobby shook his head.  
  
"You're not unlovable, Bobby. You grew up in the suburbs with both of your parents and-"  
  
"Scott, don't do that. Don't pull the orphan card. Your dad's a space pirate! Your brother is..." Bobby's mouth tightened at the thought of Alex Summers. "Alive. You both have a relationship. You both are in a relationship. Stable ones -"  
  
Scott frowned, thinking about Lorna.  
  
"You were meant for this life, Scott. You came to Xavier's and it was like you were meant to be here. Things fell into place for you - have purpose. And I?" Bobby held up another apple pie box. "I have bad pie and a degree in accounting."  
  
Scott took the box away from him, noticed the pie inside and asked, "Can I?"  
  
Bobby shrugged.  
  
Scott quickly ate the pie quietly, noticing Bobby staring up at him intently. "Yes?"  
  
"Do you have any advice?"  
  
"On women?"  
  
"Yeah. On women."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Nope?"  
  
"None."  
  
"Then how do you do it?"  
  
"I'm over six foot tall, have great abs, and say very little. Worked for me when I was eighteen and never altered the formula. Also, I'm good with my hands."  
  
Bobby, 5'8", nice abs (currently being destroyed by ill-advised pie), and spoke too much nodded. "I'm hopeless. You're getting married again in a month...wait, is that why you're here?"  
  
"I'm here because you are my friend and as a rule, I care more about you than the opinions of Jean's mother and sister on our centerpieces."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"They are all on speaker phone, talking about pale blue roses versus pale lavender roses. They all look the same to me." Scott ate the rest of the pie. "I just want her to be happy."  
  
"Can I ask something stupid?"  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"Do you still think about Maddy?"  
  
Scott took a deep breath. "I wish I didn't. It's hard. Wasn't always. At first, she was like an easy answer to this very difficult problem I had. Getting married to her was the easy part...getting married is always the easy part, discussion of rose colors aside. Realizing why you did the things you did and knowing they aren't the solutions you thought is probably one of the hardest situations I've ever been in."  
  
"You mean when she became the Goblin Queen?"  
  
"That was actually one of the easier aspects to deal with. I know how to fight. I knew what was right in the situation. But when Jean came back and I was still married to Maddy." Scott looked for a place to put the apple pie wrapper, found none, and set it on the dash. "The problem was never that I didn't love Jean. It was that she wasn't there. I did what I thought was right to move on and then, when everything was fine, she comes back in. Now, I have to confront every time I told Maddy that the reason I love her isn't that she looks like Jean and figure out if I was lying."  
  
"Because Jean's your true love? Your soul mate?"  
  
Scott looked down. "I don't believe in that sort of thing."  
  
Bobby kept silent. The words Scott and Jean were said by everybody as if they were one word.  
  
"When the Dark Phoenix was creeping up, we would have these talks. And I never felt safer. I never stopped blaming myself for her death until we found out that she was never dead at all. Sometimes, Bobby, I resent her for being in a coma and getting to wake up and return to life while the rest of us had to keep going and make room for her again."  
  
Bobby remembered the X-Factor days. The news of Jean being alive was instantly exciting to him, and to Hank and Warren. He had always assumed that Scott was just being Scott in his quietness.  
  
Scott shook his head. "You're a suburban kid. You're as far away from me as Warren is to all of us. Ever since the airplane crash, I've been constantly waiting for the next bad thing to happen. And when bad things happen to me, they involve weird shit. Your bad things...are solved with ill-advised pies. These things are horrible, Bobby."  
  
"If you don't believe in soul mates, if you feel like something is going to happen, why even do it again?"  
  
"It's what will make her happy."  
  
"What about what would make you happy? I heard Betsy propositioned you in a towel. Knowing my luck, the closest I'll ever get to that is Jubilee."  
  
Scott gave a small smile. "I bet you, four years, she will."  
  
"Betsy will?"  
  
"Jubilee."  
  
"Ew." Bobby shook his head. "She's thirteen, Scott."  
  
"Kitty and Piotr had a similar age gap."  
  
"I'm not going to date Jubilee."  
  
"It's not dating that I'm worried about, Bobby. Things happen. Stupid things. They especially seem to happen to you."  
  
Bobby opened his mouth to protest when Scott gestured to the trash around his feet, all apple pie boxes.  
  
"I promise I won't do anything stupid, Scott."  
  
"You're a man, Bobby. All we can do is something stupid." Scott pointed to the drive thru. "Should we get more pie?"  
  
"Obviously."


	5. Wolvie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Jubilee have the sex talk.

**Pixie, Perv, Protector**   
**Part 5: Wolvie**

_Santa Monica, Past_  
  
Splat!  
  
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.  
  
Splat!  
  
Scrape. Scrape. Scrapey. Scrape.  
  
"Thanks, Logan."  
  
"Don't mention it."  
  
"I mean, I could have done it myself-"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"I'm very resourceful."  
  
"Yeah, well, next time you decide to punch a hole in the wall…" Splat! "Choose one that isn't made completely of drywall."  
  
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.  
  
Jubilee pouted as she watched Logan slowly patch up a three foot long hole in the wall with a view to the other room. "It's not my fault that my right hook was taught by the best at what he does."  
  
Logan grunted with approval. "Darlin', you don't even know what it is I'm the best at."  
  
"After a gazillion trips through Asia with you, I've narrowed it down to punchin', drinkin', and singin' Sinatra."  
  
"Not a word on that third."  
  
"Keep plasterin', Frankie, or someone's rendition of "Summer Wind" is going viral."  
  
Splat!  
  
"Where you movin' to after this?"  
  
"Back in with Annie. Just until the semester is over and then I'm thinking of going back to Xavier's."  
  
Scrapey. Scrape. Scrape.  
  
"I mean, I didn't even want to move out of here, but Hannah said that she needed the room for someone else."  
  
"That's right. Drake's getting out of rehab next week."  
  
Jubilee's lips went tight and her face remained still.  
  
"Guess nobody told ya."  
  
She relaxed and put on a smile. "I'm sure everybody has better things to do than to tell me when our very own Lindsey Lohan checks back into town...and then his grandmother kicks me out of her house without telling me that it's for him."  
  
Splat!  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"Don't know." Scrapey scrapey scrape. "Only saw him once."  
  
"You got on the visitor list?"  
  
"Nope. He broke out."  
  
"Bobby broke out of rehab?" Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Moron. What happened?"  
  
"Hitch hiked from Rochester back to the mansion. I was the only one who saw him."  
  
"How did he manage that? Spontaneous ninja prowess?"  
  
"Told him what I would do to him if I had to see Jean's heart break all over again."  
  
"You said that to him?"  
  
SPLAT. Scrapey scrape scrape.  
  
"I'm more of a shower than a teller. Hand me that two by four."  
  
Jubilee handed him a piece of wood before sitting on the floor to sulk.  
  
"Your sex life is your own business."  
  
"…please tell me you did this to Kitty when Doug Ramsay made her go into heat…"  
  
"I made promises to people that I'd talk to you about sex."  
  
Jubilee knew immediately who he meant. "I don't think that's what Jean wanted you to say."  
  
"If Red thought you'd listen to her, then Red would be talkin'. She said I was your father figure and I needed to be the one to straighten you out. So I'm doin' it my way."  
  
Jubilee looked at the mirror on the closed door. She had always expected it to be Jean to give her the awkward sex talk. The only other person who had even touched the subject with her was in a state mandated health talk by the White Queen and Banshee. Sean had held it together with minimal blushing until Emma had said, _The only lambskin in a purse you should ever receive is a Chanel handbag_.  
  
That talk was only awkward for Sean. Aspirational for Paige.  
  
"So, is that the whole talk?"  
  
"No." Snikt. SLICE. "It's this - don't fuck fucked up men. Don't fuck fucked up women. Don't fuck while fucked up."  
  
 _He's so casual saying it_ , she thought. _He's not even embarrassed to be saying them around me._ She felt embarrassed by the quick fantasy of an overprotective Wolverine who didn't want his little girl exposed to s-e-x.  
  
"So…I shouldn't fuck at all?"  
  
"No." Logan slid the sliced two by fours into the wall for a sturdier construction. "Just don't fuck like it's a drug."  
  
"I didn't sleep with Bobby because I -"  
  
"Drake's fucked up, Jubilee."  
  
She shook her head. "He wasn't. Not when we were together."  
  
"Just because he looks like a sheep don't mean there's not a wolf underneath."  
  
"I know it was a mistake, you know. I'm not Boom Boom."  
  
"Boomer."  
  
"Meltdown this month, actually." Jubilee laid down on the hardwood floor. "Whatever. I don't have this teeny bopper, poodle skirts and saddle shoes crush on him. It's just that…he reminds me of my dad."  
  
"Drake reminds you of your immigrant Chinese father made millionaire doctor?"  
  
"It would make more sense if you understood my father's passions. One time, I was six or something. We went to a party of one of the neighbor kids. There was an elephant giving rides."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"His mother was Barker Beauty and his dad did advertising for Coca-Cola. It's Beverly Hills - they were the poor couple on the block. For my tenth birthday, my father reunited Ace of Base."  
  
Splat.  
  
"Anywhodini, point being, I didn't want to be on the elephant."  
  
"Let me guess, he didn't force you which is why I had to teach you that nobody cares about what you want?"  
  
"Accurate. But leaves out the part where nobody wanted to ride the elephant. We were six. We hadn't even pinned a tail onto a single donkey yet because the adults didn't trust us with thumbtacks. Let's ease into "elephant riding", y'know? So, all the kids are crying, but not me. My dad asks me why and I tell him that they're afraid of falling off. He tells me about the saddle and harness and that it's safe - I said I saw but that's not what I'm afraid of. I tell him that I'm afraid that the elephant and I are going to bond so well during our ride that we would be unable to be separated afterwards and that the elephant wouldn't be happy in our backyard…and I didn't want to ask him to buy a new house just because I wanted an elephant."  
  
"Does this anecdote end with butterscotch sundaes?"  
  
"No. My dad listened to me and then took me to the elephant and explained to him that under no circumstance, it was not to bond with me."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Then I made him do it in Mandarin, German, and Esperanto. Well, actually, he elected to do Esperanto - he had just learned it and said he wanted to take the opportunity to practice."  
  
"So did you ride the elephant?"  
  
"We both did. Strangely, my father felt a bond with the elephant and kept hinting to my mother that maybe we should move to a new house with a more elephant-friendly backyard."  
  
"Did it work?"  
  
"Hell no. My mother did not let that shit fly. She bought him a karaoke machine and he soon forgot about the elephant and focused on mastering "Careless Whisper" by Wham! My dad was…" Jubilee's voice trailed off, having not thought of her father in some time. "He saw the world I saw." Her heart slowed as if it were beating in quick dry cement. "You remember when I went back in time and saw the hit-men kill my parents? And how I couldn't kill them? Because I knew that it wouldn't bring them back. And now…the only other person who sees the world like I do won't talk to me because of something stupid we both did." Jubilee shook her head. "I can get past it…why can't he?"  
  
"He's a coward. You're not." Logan handed her a spackle sander. "Move on."  
  
SPLAT!  
  
Scrape, scrapey-scrape.  
  
Hannah Bass stopped at the door in the hallway and looked inside. "I decided against the wall. The previous owners created it to make a separate room for a sex dungeon."  
  
Jubilee smiled as Hannah left. "I can't believe I lost my virginity in a former sex dunge-"  
  
CRASH.  
  
The drywall crumbled on the floor and wet spackle covered Logan's hand.  
  
"Hey, stop that! You bought me that sledgehammer just in case she said we could knock the whole thing down!"  
  
Logan stepped aside as Jubilee grabbed tool. "You get three whacks at this pinata and then I'm gutting it."  
  
"You know, you don't always have to use your claws for everything. She has a chainsaw." Jubilee pointed to the chainsaw lying next to the day bed.  
  
Logan picked it up, started it, and motioned back to the wall.  
  
Jubilee lifted the sledgehammer and struck the wall, watching the drywall crumble to dust on the floor.


	6. Firecracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NYC movie date.

**Pixie, Perv, Protector**   
  
**Part 6: Firecracker**   
  
  
_—October 13th, Chelsea, NYC—_

The subway was crowded, so Jubilee and Drake'son stood close. It was also noisy with a banjo player that only played Rihanna songs.  
  
"So, do you just want to kiss and get it over with?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Like, I just stick my tongue down your throat and then we don't have to worry about whether or not this is a date? We can just make it a date and then it can either be a good date or bad date, and it couldn't just be an awkward meeting that shouldn't be awkward." Jubilee was sure she had just made this the last time she'd see Drake'son.  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea."  
  
"Why? Is it the banjo? I like banjos."  
  
"Everybody loves banjo."  
  
"Rihanna."  
  
"I love banjo and Rihanna."  
  
"Then why?"  
  
"Almost anything for banjo; anything for Rihanna."

_Just not for me, then?_ she thought while fidgeting. _Not a date. Just keep it cool and be friends. This is a clear sign._

  
—Act I, The Floor Show—  
  
"We have a problem."  
  
"Already got the tickets, they are for sure not sold out."  
  
"Not that."  
  
"Do you want me to get you some stockings? Not too late. I'm sure they sell them as for a fee in line…"  
  
"No."  
  
"You'd rock some fishnets."  
  
"Not the point."  
  
"The _**entire** _ point!"  
  
"Jubilee…please listen."  
  
"You have my ears, Drake'son."  
  
Drake'son leaned into Jubilee's ear, a hard feat near the entrance in line to Cinepolis at almost midnight. "I heard someone talking about virgins."  
  
"...you are no virgin."  
  
"We did not have this movie in my dimension."  
  
"Yeah, but you've totally had to seen it while you've been here."  
  
"We never made it that far in my education."  
  
"Impossible!" Jubilee began to laugh before Drake'son stared at her with his one good eye, filled with unusual terror. "Oh shit. This is your first time!"  
  
Drake'son grabbed her wrist, tightly with fear. "What am I going to have to do up there?"  
  
"Uhm…probably have stuff written on your face, go up in front of everybody and do something embarrassing. One time, it was a spanking, another was glitter enemas —"  
  
"I am not getting an enema on stage. I am not going **on** that stage. How do I avoid virgin detection?"  
  
Jubilee stared at her friend with long blond hair and eye patch, dressed in leather and denim, who had the ability to kill with his mind (or at least look it). "You know that they don't have those in this dimension, right?" She waited for a moment as she could tell that he did not. And looking at the line filled with first timers begging to be humiliated and the shadow cast of this theater's Rocky Horror Picture show shouting about using "virgin detectors" in their costumes, she understood.  
  
"Can you just tell them that I'm from an alternate dimension and that any attempt to engage might induce an instance of PTSD?" Drake'son pointed to the couple of cast members dressed in metallic tiny togas at the couple in front of them, unable to enter the theater unless passing the test.  
  
"VIRGIN DETECTORS!" they said in unison, circling the couple, one with a trident tipped with plastic penises. The other with a wand and a meter which moved as the wand was moved around one part of the couple.  
  
"First time? The virgin detector will know for sure!"  
  
"I'm getting a positive read! SLUT, SLUT, SLUT! YOU'RE A SLUT!" they called, pointing to the male part of the couple. Soon, a group of cast members circled them, chanting.  
  
"SLUT, SLUT, SLUT! YOU'RE A SLUT!"  
  
His face was painted with lipstick, shirt removed, and "SLUT!" painted across his chest.  
  
They got their tickets and entered the theater.  
  
The Virgin Detectors moved their way to Jubilee and Drake'son.  
  
Right as their mouth opened but before dick tipped tridents could be pointed and positioned, Jubilee waved her hand, motioning them to go to the couple behind them.  
  
They got their tickets and entered.  
  
"That…" Drake'son smiled. "Was cool."  
  
Jubilee grabbed his hand and led him to the snack bar, lips together. She had not dressed up for the show, wearing an open violet trench coat, black pants with suspenders and a white button down shirt with 80's geometric shapes in black. Paired with black Oxfords and polka dot scarf. No one on any of the teams she had been on ever called her cool.  
  
Not only did he say it, but Drake'son definitely made her feel it.  
  
Which is probably why the moment they got to the snack counter, Jubilee promptly said, "No Jordan almonds, no deal."  
  
—Act II, Joy—  
  
They got them for free and they were almost out.  
  
"Look, Drake, I got one left. It's yours." She tapped him with the box. He made no move. Jubilee went for the abandoned almond. "Suit yourself." She toyed with the almond for a few movements, noticing that he still didn't move.  
  
Jubilee looked at the screen. "I don't get it. You've seen Tim Curry before."  
  
He shook his head short and soft and spoke honestly. "I was just gay. It was good."  
  
Jubilee nodded. She moved the box to him - no way he had heard her earlier.  
  
"Last one?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"It's yours."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"I have one chambered." Drake'son opened his eye patch and caught a mint green Jordan almond fall.  
  
"…you're eating that?"  
  
"Yep. "  
  
"Doesn't it have gross eye-injury-related goo and crusts on it?"  
  
Drake'son motioned to her to come closer to her eye. He opened his eye patch to reveal a healthy bright blue eye.  
  
He closed it. "Just in case the other eye gets damaged. That's a secret."  
  
"Oh." Jubilee pulled out two Jordan almonds out of the box. "So I wouldn't have to actually let you have the last one.  
  
Drake'son took it. Then gave her the one from his eye.  
  
"Have two."  
  
She was pretty sure he was winking, but couldn't tell because of the eye patch.  
  
—Act III, It Is to Win—  
  
Jubilee waited at the front. "Ready?"  
  
"Let's go." Drake'son walked with Jubilee through late night, early morning Chelsea.  
  
They were both quiet.  
  
Jubilee knew why she was quiet. She couldn't remember if she had the key card. She remembered taking it with her before she left the hotel. They had gotten there early in to NYC just long enough to get the keys and go out. And she had forgotten where she had put the key card because of seeing an older woman accessorizing her leopard cape with a small spider monkey on her shoulder with a matching cape.  
  
The monkey had given her the finger.  
  
Jubilee was sure that it could have dropped out while she was giving it right back.  
  
She was lost in angry thought about the monkey when Drake'son handed her something.  
  
"Here."  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"It's you."  
  
"Where did you get this?"  
  
"That one scene at the pool, they throw cards. They all landed on us."  
  
"They warned us about sitting so far back."  
  
"And you chased them away with a look."  
  
Jubilee looked at the playing card. It was the queen of hearts.  
  
"This for me?"  
  
He shook his head, confirming.  
  
Jubilee confessed. "I lost my keycard."  
  
"I have our card. I wouldn't trust you in this town to have the only card to our room. There are monkeys being used as accessories with accessories here."  
  
 _Our card._ It was a clear sign.  
  
Drake'son began looking for a cab and humming Rihanna.


	7. Chapter 7: Perfect Feathers, Esq.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Colorado, Warren and Annie talk over s'mores.

Pixie, Perv, Protector

By Mice

Chapter 7: Perfect Feathers, Esq.

"You haven't ever had a real job, have you?"

"A real job?"

"Aside from being just you but professionally."

"Professionally?"

"Wear nice pants."

"I always wear nice pants."

"Except when you're not wearing pants."

"Those are the best pants of all."

Marshmallows browned.

"I do."

"What?"

"Have a job. Several. I'm the chairman."

"Of?"

"Does it matter?"

"Kinda. I mean, there's a difference of being a waitress at the Prairie Inn or a woman who's a mistress."

"There's an obvious difference."

"They're both waitresses, obviously. But the Prairie Inn girl doesn't have to be married to her job."

Graham cracker toasted.

"I'm a mistress."

"Warren Worthington, Professional Mistress. I'll have your cards printed right up."

"That's Warren K. Worthington, III—"

"Oh, nobody cares. That's just more work to write out. It's like a lawyer calling themselves Esquire."

"Good heavens, you're right. Nothing worse than an American insisting they call you a landowner in England."

"Per Betsy?"

"Per me."

"Was anything per Betsy?"

"Everything else."

Cold British chocolate.

"What's her number?"

"I cannot reveal that."

"She isn't a ten?"

"I cannot reveal that."

"How is Betsy not a perfect ten? With telepathy?"

"The truth."

"Is there any other female who is a perfect ten—"

"Like myself?"

"…sure…"

"Of course. And usually they are very boring."

"A ten? Be boring, huh?"

"Well, how do you handle someone who insists that there is no way you are better than them?"

"There's always 'humanely'."

Smoosh.

"Annie, is this about you being a 8.73?"

"Remy says I'm a 10."

"Yeah in "his" world. That's treacle. I am truth."

"Are all 10s this humble?"

"Yes, that's why it's so boring."

"So, you're saying maybe it's not best to be a 10?"

"No, you have to be a 10 - how else do you deal with this world?"

"That's your mother talking."

"Kit Worthington, the only woman capable of birthing the one true ten."

"Tell me the story about her saddest night?"

"I was —"

"As her. Please."

"Warren Kenneth, when there are finger sandwiches about we must be brave. Have Sweetie tell Tika that dinner will be in unsweetened fruit liquid form? For you. I'm having non-dairy protein cheese. It's a Tuesday, afterall."

"Seventy-two pound cannonball of joy."

"I wish she could have met you."

"She would have thought I was the maid."

"She would have thought you were the mistress."

Crunch.

"I fuff foo."

"Love you too, Feathers."

Crunch.


	8. Perfect Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby helps his grandmother as she goes through dementia and wonders where Jubilee is.

**Pixie Perv Protector  
By Mice**

**Chapter 8: Perfect Memory**

_NOTE: Refers to some events that happened in_ Applejack _that weren't written._

**_-Santa Monica, CA – Present-_ **

“Nan?”

“Yes, Bobby.”

“You should get back inside.”

“It’s too hot in there.”

“We’ll turn on the air.”

“We can’t.”

“Why?”

“Jacqueline broke the controls so I couldn’t tamper with it anymore.”

“She updated it. You can control it from your phone.”

“She hid my phone.”

“Nan…”

“She HID my phone, Bobby!”

Bobby held up the phone he found under his grandmother’s bed. “It’s right here, Nan. I got it back from her. Let’s go back inside.”

“It’s too hot in there!”

“Be that as it may, right now we’re in the middle of the street in the middle of the night and it’s not safe for either of us.”

Nan Bass, a woman who had seen the world, been a radio/vaudeville star, a major asset to an upscale assassin’s guild and the only living grandmother of Robert Drake, the Iceman, shrugged in her fur coat and slip. “Really, Bobby? This is what’s dangerous?”

Bobby put his harm around his grandmother’s. “Yes, Nan. Please walk with me?”

She sighed as he began to guide them back home. Bobby thought that by coming back to Santa Monica, he would lessen the stress from being a super hero in New York. He assumed that any family stress would be a breeze.

It never was. 

Bobby had always shrugged off his cousin Holland’s (or Jacqueline, as Nan liked to call her) insistence that their grandmother wasn’t well. It wasn’t until recently he had begun to take her seriously. The neighbors had begun to call him while Holland was touring a string of nightclubs in the Pacific Northwest to let them know that his grandmother was roaming the neighborhood and seemed confused.

His grandmother was always the sharpest one in the room and insistent in her independence. And now he was routinely escorting her home and thwarting her half hearted excuses as to why she had left the house – sometimes insisting that she hadn’t left at all. Bobby found himself routinely explaining to her basic rules of reality.

It made him long for alternate universes.

“Bobby, will you do me a favor?”

“Anything, Nan.”

“I’m worried about Billie. “

“Billie?”

“Your friend.”

“Which one?” 

“The one you fucked in my house.”

Bobby remained silent.

“Have you heard from her?”

“Jubilee and I don’t talk anymore, Nan.”

“Because you fucked her?”

“Because of a lot of things.”

“Mostly that, though.”

“Mostly because I left a lot of things when I left New York –“

“I’d call it flushing away your responsibilities.”

“It’s hard to explain, Nan—“

“Look, Bobby – it’s okay to fuck up your life. Your grandfather and I did plenty of things you would not be proud of and fucked up plenty.”

“I went to rehab. A few times.”

“You may go back yet, Bobby. You’re young!”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“The point is, Bobby, you can fuck up your life. You do not fuck over your friends.”

“I shouldn’t have fucked my friend.”

“It happens. I did time with Omar Sharif and he still managed to send me a Hanukkah chard every year.”

“Wait, you and –“

“Not important. I haven’t heard from Billie since that wedding Annie didn’t have. I’m worried.”

They reached Nan’s house and Bobby got out the keys. “I hear she’s doing good.”

“I wish she’d call me.”

“I’m sure she’ll call you soon.” Bobby opened the door and let Nan in.

“…I’m not doing well, am I?”

His grandmother suddenly looked very old.

“You’re doing okay,” he lied.

_**-Next Morning-** _

“What?”

“…that’s how you pick up the phone now?”

“You use the phone now?”

“I’m giving it a whirl.”

“You go, you astronaut you. Why are you calling?”

“You sound like you’re in a hurry –“

“Sort of. It’s not major.”

“Define not major.”

“Waffle delivery.”

“From?”

“A tiny waffle maker that can’t seem to find the address.”

“There’s your problem.”

“The address?”

“The tiny waffles. This tiny waffle maker clearly has tiny technology. GPS wouldn’t fit the aesthetic.”

“True. It’s tiny artisanal waffles.”

“What does that even mean –“

“Nutmeg.”

“Nutmeg?”

“It’s a game changer.”

“Nutmeg.”

“It’s the perfume of angels. Why are you calling me? I think the last time we saw each other –“

“You nearly slaughtered me in a fancy hotel suite in front of all our friends.”

“I relayed my apologies.”

“None necessary. Comes with being an X-Men.”

“Also, you made it pretty clear before that we shouldn’t talk ever, so…”

“It’s Nan. She said she’s worried about you and you should call her.”

“Call her?”

“Yeah, just every once in a while to check in on her.”

“Bobby, I call her every day.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I call her everyday. Holland told me about the Alzheimer’s so I am stepping up my baffle game. She calls me, too. She forgets we talk. Sometimes I’m out on a job and there are ten missed calls from her. I call her right back, I swear! I don’t abandon friends.” Pause. “Sorry.”

“I know you don’t.” Pause. “Looks like she’s not so far gone as to not be able to find a way to get me to call you.”

“She’s a chess master. No matter what’s going on in that creamy nougat of hers, she’s still Nan Bass.”

“I guess this was a reminder.”

“I gotta go. Tiny waffles appeared. While they won’t eat themselves, they will be eaten by others.”

“I forgot about the tiny waffles.”

“…you’ve been picturing angels rubbing waffles all over their bodies for their perfume, though, right?”

“Absolutely accurate.”

“Bye, Perv.”

“Bye, Pixie.”


End file.
